


An Intemperate Rain

by lokilickedme



Series: Tempest [8]
Category: Loki (Marvel) - Fandom, Loki - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Lap Sex, Loki Does What He Wants, Nipple Biting, Rough Foreplay, Rough Sex, rough language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 17:45:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3819322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokilickedme/pseuds/lokilickedme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beware of Asgardians bearing gifts.  Especially if it's Loki and the gift has dubious origins.  Part 8 of the Tempest series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Intemperate Rain

 

 

As I am wont to do, I refuse to stay away from my sweet little mortal for long.  Fury can take his _plausible concern for civilians_ and fuck them in the earhole, everyone knows his true desire is not in keeping the denizens of Midgard safe from monsters like me.  No, his true life goal is in screwing me over if he can, as revenge for daring to piss in his territory.  We are alley cats hissing and spitting and marking everything in sight, threatening and putting up a squall that disturbs the neighborhood but never really succeeding in chasing one another off.  And so we circle each other, eyes locked, hackles raised, ready to tear at one another's throats on a moment's notice.  If it weren't for the woman and my brother, I would have ended Fury long ago.

But I need him, for now, as he holds the key to my gilded cage.  The one place on Midgard that I am allowed to come and go to as I please without starting an intergalactic incident.  The one place where I can be with her.

This time I have a pretty gift for her, an ancient gold bangle that I slip over her wrist.  She is as pleased as I had known she would be; women like such things, and she shyly stands on her tiptoes to give me a kiss on the cheek as she smiles and runs her fingers over the intricately etched surface.  It is customary for a man of station to present his lover with such trinkets.  They often soften the way for favors asked later that would otherwise be refused.

No, I am not above plying my woman with pretty things to make her more willing to indulge me.  But the truth of the matter is that I have never found such tactics necessary, as she is _always_ indulgent of me.  Her own desires match mine in intensity if not ferocity, and when I lead her into unfamiliar territory she follows eagerly.  Only once has she told me no, and in all honesty this gift is more of a peace offering than a bribe.  Once I had returned home after our last visit, I found myself with an uncomfortable, unfamiliar pang of remorse that could not be soothed through distraction.  And although making a woman cry has never _ever_ been an issue for me, her tears this time had not resulted from our usual rough lovemaking; on the contrary, they had been due a lack of it.

My impatience has always gotten the better of me.  It is a lesson I should have learned centuries ago, but I am stubborn that way.

We have grown less anxious at the start of our visits, settling into a routine that we are becoming accustomed to.  With the possibility of being separated without a moment's notice no longer a threat, we actually spend some time talking instead of tearing into one another with primal lust and urgency before the guards have even closed the door behind them.  She is, undeniably, my plaything - I come to Midgard regularly for the sole purpose of carnal relations with her - but once I begin listening to her speak, I am left with the unsettling realization that she is more, far more, than just a willing cunt for me to plow into.

She is intelligent.  She has traveled this realm extensively.  She holds degrees of some sort and has done humanitarian works.  She is witty and bright and kind natured, with an indomitable spirit that I have seen on every occasion that we have been together.  And though her human accomplishments mean nothing to me, she seems proud of them, and for that I find myself proud of her as well.  I catch myself wondering how she would fit in on Asgard, standing beside me in the royal court.  I will have to test her willingness to add more travel to her list of has-dones.

But not right now.  Right now I am eyeing her with a growing need as I watch her lean forward to unbuckle the delicate strap at her ankle.  She removes her shoes and remains tipped forward, her large soft breasts resting on her thighs, just enough pressure against them to make the cleavage at the neck of her blouse swell upward.  Everything about her is soft, her curves and dips, her skin, her hair, her smile and her eyes and the way she looks at me.  I am all angles and sharp lines, bone and lean muscle and sinew, razor spirit and stone resolve.  Where I am impatience and anger and harshness, she is serenity and calm and kindness.  She is my opposite, what I am lacking.  Together we make something complete, though I am not sure what that something is.  Are we a travesty, as Fury claims?  Or are we an inevitable convergeance, as my mother so succinctly suggests?

At this moment I don't care.  At this moment I have a hard, throbbing cock and she has a soft, yielding pussy.  These are the only differences that matter as I take her in my arms and heft her up to carry her to the bed.  In my urgency to get at her I consider using magic to strip her naked, but I have found the tactile experience of undressing her manually to be far more satisfying.  She is tempering my impatience already, and I am not sure I like that.

Dumping her unceremoniously on the bed, I begin taking my own clothes off first while she props herself up on her elbows to watch.  Her eyes roam over me as my clothing comes away, dropped to the floor, revealing the body that is about to crush her into the mattress and bring her to ecstasy.  

 _"Touch yourself,"_   I command.  My tone leaves no room for argument or reticence.  Her eyes flicker from my face to my hands for a brief moment, then she does as she is told and slips her hand up her skirt.  "Pull it up so I can see."

She slides the skirt up over her hips, exposing her thighs and finally her dainty lace panties.  Her fingers caress over the outside of them and I shake my head, tsk'ing at her disapprovingly.

"That won't do, pet," I chide.  "Take them off."

A pretty pink blush rises to her cheeks as she obeys me, slipping the panties down her thighs and letting them drop to the floor.  I resume removing my pants and her eyes fall to my cock, rigid and engorged, standing at attention now that it is no longer restrained by clothing.

"I did not give you permission to stop," I growl, and she resumes the slow exploration of her soft womanly bits without the underwear obscuring her touch or my view.  She is wet and glistening as her fingers stroke herself.  I get on my knees beside the bed and watch from close range, my voice purring encouragement to her from just inches away.  "What an obedient girl you are," I whisper as I slide my hands up her thighs, causing her breath to catch in her throat.  "Now slip a finger inside."

She does as she is told.  I watch as her eyes flutter shut, her finger slipping into the velvety soft recesses of her body, her breath quickening just enough to make her stomach rise and fall rapidly as her desire begins to take hold.  She utters a curse word under her breath, barely a whisper, as her hips jerk slightly.  I can tell this is going to be a good night.

"Get up and take off the rest of your clothes," I order her.  She does not hesitate to obey and I sit on the edge of the bed, drawing her close to me as she slips out of her skirt and proceeds to unbutton her blouse, her eyes watching me as I let mine roam over her gradually exposed body.  When she slips the blouse off her shoulders and stands before me in just her lacy bra, I pull her down on my knee so that she is straddling my thigh.  She is wet and slick, and begins pushing down on me, sliding herself back and forth.  The friction between my thigh and her pussy makes her groan.  It is a gutteral sound, primal and hungered, and my cock responds to it immediately by thickening almost painfully between my legs.  My mood shifts.

"Take this off," I bark at her harshly, flicking my finger between the cups of her bra.  "I want to suck your nipples."  She reaches behind her back and unfastens the closure, and as the delicate garment falls away and her lovely, heavy breasts tumble out of it, I take them roughly in my hands and squeeze them hard.  She sucks in her breath as my fingers pinch her nipples sharply, leaving them red and swollen, stiffening in reaction to my ungentle fondling.  Though her face is a beautiful grimace of pain mixed with pleasure, I have no doubt she loves this as much as I do.  Every assailant needs a victim, and vice versa.  We suit one another.

Once her nipples are sufficiently abused, I take them into my mouth one at a time, suckling them to soothe the ache, caressing them with my tongue and pulling them gently with my lips.  Her back arches and her body shivers, her hands tangling in my hair to tug my head tighter against her; when she thinks I am going to be gentle and her guard comes down, I abruptly bite her, hard.

She yelps and jerks away from me, but I have her tight in my grasp and yank her back, slamming her down on my lap where my stiff cock is waiting for her.  She wraps her legs around me and I guide her pussy to my groin, my hands on her hips shoving her down onto me, making her take me completely into her in one stroke that nearly lays her open.  Her scream makes the blood rush to my cock and I thrust madly into her to relieve the pressure, desire raging like insanity, unbridled and deadly, and I come deep inside her belly as an enraged cry tears from my lungs.  I scarcely notice that she is still riding me, her face soaked in tears but her body taut and determined as she blindly seeks her pleasure with as much ferocity as I did mine.  My mind clears enough for me to help her find it.  

 _"Come on baby,"_   I urge her in heated whispers against the damp hollow between her breasts.  My hands are squeezing her, fondling and caressing, my lips kissing and sucking, my cock still hard inside her scalding cunt as she grinds against me, taking me as deep as she can, trying to get me deeper.  To help her along I run my hands around her backside and grip her asscheeks, pulling them apart, slipping a finger into the sweet crevice between them to press teasingly against her little opening as I move my mouth back to her left nipple and begin sucking it hard.  I can feel her rising, her belly clenching tighter, and I shift my hips so that her clit is rubbing hard against my still-swollen shaft every time she thrusts down on me.  Just as she is reaching her fever pitch and I hear the timbre of her moans go higher, I push a fingertip into her bottom, biting her nipple simultaneously.

She takes her release then in a climax so overwhelming that every muscle in her delectable little body goes rigid.  I hold her protectively as she trembles in violent spasms and finally collapses against me, crying and gasping and trying to catch her breath.  I let her pull herself back together slowly, laying back on the bed with her encircled in my arms, speaking quietly to her till she finally stills.

 

Later, we sleep.  It is not something we spend much time doing, as our visits are never more than a night, but she is tired and I am not displeased at the thought of a little rest myself.  I have dimmed the lights with a bit of magic flicked from my fingertips to avoid having to get out of bed, and I lay listening to her breathing against my chest, my thumb absently rubbing over the deeply inscribed markings on the bracelet around her wrist.  I whisper a few words in the old tongue and watch as the bauble begins to glow, an ethereal rose-toned light slipping through the inscriptions from deep inside.  I cannot hold back the smirk that tugs at my lips.  

This is going to be fun.

 

 


End file.
